Page 134 of The Humiliated Wife
Marcy shifted, pulling the blanket tighter. “Wanna tell us why?”
Fiona hesitated. Her fingers tightened around the mug. “I keep thinking about him. About Dean.”
That earned a moment of silence on the other end of the call.
“Part of me—” Her throat tightened. “Part of me wants to forgive him.”
Emma didn’t rush in. She just waited.
“He’s done all these things,” Fiona explained in a rush. “Anonymous donations. Marketing help for the district. Groceries that just show up.”
Marcy sat up straighter, her voice quiet. “Fi…”
“I just… I don’t know if I’mallowedto,” Fiona said. The words came out small. “After everything. After how hurt I was. After everything I said.”
Emma’s brow creased. “Fi.”
She hesitated. “Just because he’s nice about it—just because he’s generous and quiet and doesn’t fight me—doesn’t mean he respects me any more than he ever did.”
“You’re allowed to forgive him if you want to,” Marcy said softly. “You’re allowed to want that.”
Fiona blinked.
“You’re allowed to change your mind,” Emma added. “You’re allowed to miss him. You’re allowed tonotmiss him. You’re allowed to feel ten contradictory things at once and still not have a clear answer.”
Fiona swallowed. “But what if it makes me look weak?”
Emma’s voice was firm now. “It doesn’t.”
“It makes you human,” Marcy said. “You don’t owe anyone a performance of strength.”
Fiona stared at the screen. “What if I forgive him and it’s a mistake?”
“Then it’s a mistake you made on your own terms,” Emma said. “And you’ll get through it. With us. With people who love you.”
Marcy nodded. “But Fi, it might not be a mistake. It might be the bravest thing you ever do.”
That undid her a little. Fiona pressed her sleeve to her cheek and exhaled.
“I left. I walked away. I started a whole new life. And now I’m sitting here in the apartment hegaveme, still trying to make sense of how much I want to believe him.”
She tried not to think about the ring sitting twenty feet away, silent and accusatory in the dim entryway.
“I just want to feel like myself again,” she whispered. “Like I’m not carrying this knot around all the time.”
“You don’t have to decide today,” Emma said gently. “You’re allowed to wait.”
“And if youdodecide?” Marcy said, softer now. “We’re on your team, no matter what.”
Fiona looked around the apartment. The same walls, the same floor, the same chipped windowsill. But it didn’t feel like it used to. It felt… open. Like maybe something new could live here.
“Thanks,” she said, voice steadier now. “I just needed to hear someone say it out loud.”
Emma raised her mug. “Say it with me, then.”
Marcy smiled. “You’re allowed.”
And Fiona—chest tight but a little lighter—whispered it back.
